No matter how many children we have, each child is unique and special. We love and raise them all the same, but different, too, because of who they are, but also by what they expect of us. Each child is given their own place in our heart, a special place we grew just for them.
When a second child is born, we don’t take love away from the first child and share it with the second. A whole new love grows and it’s uniquely theirs. The same goes for a third and each successive child, as well.
If anyone were to ever ask if I have a favorite child, or who I love the most, I can easily answer from my heart. I love each of my three daughters the most. Although they are very different, each one is special and each is my favorite.
I’m going to share something my mother gave me many years ago, just after my third daughter was born. It’s framed and hanging on the wall above my desk. It was written by Erma Bombeck and it’s a classic:
To My Firstborn ...
I've always loved you best, because you were our first miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage, the fulfillment of young love, and the promise of our infinity.
You sustained us through the hamburger years, the first home furnished in Early Poverty, our first mode of transportation, and the 7-inch TV we paid on for 36 months.
You wore new, had unused grandparents, and more clothes than a Barbie Doll. You were the "original model" for unsure parents who were trying to work the bugs out.
You got the strained lamb, the full baby book, cloth diapers, unstained bibs, and three-hour naps.
You were our Beginning ...
To My Middle Child ...
I've always loved you best, because while you drew the dumb spot in the family ... you are so much stronger because of it. You were our second miracle and the peacemaker.
You cried less, smiled more, had more patience, wore faded everything, and never in your life did anything "first" ... but it only made you even more special in my heart.
You are the one we relaxed with and realized that a dog could kiss you and you wouldn't get sick.
You could cross the street by yourself, long before you were old enough to get married, and we found the world wouldn't come to an end if you went to bed with dirty feet.
You were our Continuance ...
To My Baby ...
I've always loved you best, because endings generally are sad, and you were such a joy, our ‘wild child’, and our third miracle.
You readily accepted milk-stained bibs, the used Big Wheel, and the baby book, empty except for a graham cracker pie crust recipe someone jammed between the pages.
You are the one we held onto so tightly, because you are our link with the past that gives a reason for our tomorrows.
You darken our hair, quicken our steps, square our shoulders, restore our vision, and give us the humor that security and maturity can't ever give us.
When your legs look like a road map, and your children tower over you, you will forever be ... 'our baby'.
You were the Culmination ...
I love and miss all of you.
Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
Quora Top Writer 2018.
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Love!! My third child’s baby book consists of a lock of hair, one lost tooth and a crib card, contained in a ziploc baggie. I never did get the chance to formally put the book together! ❤️❤️❤️